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by archi



Series: By Grace, We Are Saved [22]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen, M/M, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-11 19:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/802091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archi/pseuds/archi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Dean?”</p><p>Every nerve he had stood at attention and he froze. Maybe if he kept his face hidden and eyes closed he could pretend it was a hallucination and dammit he wished he was drunk right now.</p><p>Note: <b>This verse reads as one continuous story</b> Some sections overlap as told from different pov.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Go

“Dammit, Sam hold on!” Dean said gruffly, slipping the dipstick back into place and wiping his hands on a nearby rag. Sam was fidgeting and flailing like a scared animal - not that he saw but it he could hear the erratic footfalls and Sam was a fidgety bastard when he wasn’t dying.

He pulled out from under Baby’s hood and shut it before turning to his brother.

“Where’s the fire?”

“Charlie’s here,” Sam said, swaying back and forth on the spot.

Dean glanced down the narrow road a ways and saw the little yellow Rabbit, then turned back to Sam, “And?”

Sam’s eyes bulged a little and it struck Dean that Sam was trying awfully hard to contain himself.

“She’s here.”

“Yeah...has been for the better part of a week and a half..so....why are we getting hyperactive now? Am I supposed to run out in slow motion to say hello? Sam she’s only been gone like a day.”

Sam looked exasperated. “Just wash your damn hands.”

“Why?”

“Because you don’t want to get car oil everywhere.”

“Okay...” Dean was pretty sure Sam was having a meltdown or something - too much salad.

Sam was looking anxiously down at Charlie’s car. Dean glanced between the two of them. “You okay, Sammy?”

“Yeah.. you know...just go wash your hands...she should be...”

“Be what?”

“Uhhm, ready to come out, soon...” Sam said, his voice oddly strained.

“Right. Why don’t we just go inside and let her come to us when she’s good and ready?”

“No I think we should be out here. But you should wash up.”

Dean stared at him, “I changed the oil, Sam. I don’t think that will bother her too much.”

Sam fidgeted more, gave a short, annoyed breath, “Fine. Go wait inside if you want.”

“Okay...you sure you’re feelin’ alright there, princess?”

“Shut up Dean.”

Dean held his hands up in defense and then made his way back into the bunker. He didn’t plan on doing any more work on Baby so he took a quick shower, got dressed and headed to the kitchen.

He was turning around, reading to take a big swig of milk out of the carton, when he caught sight of Sam and nearly choked trying not to spew milk all over him.

“Dammit, Sam,” he coughed, putting the cap back on and shoving the milk back into the fridge. “What the hell is up with you today?”

“I need you to come outside,” Sam looked nauseous.

Dean’s annoyance faded instantly, replaced by concern, “Okay...where’s Charlie, she not come in yet?”

“She’s outside,” Sam shook his head. “She wants you to come out.”

“Is she okay...?”

“She’s fine...just...come on.”

Some feeling in the vicinity of _not right_ was beginning to stir inside him. Sam looked harassed and worried and Dean wasn’t ready to see Sam anything but rosy and healthy as he drown himself in library books.

“Okay,” Dean nodded, shrugging. Sam nodded curtly and lunged out of his seat, striding for the front door. Dean had to jog a little to keep up.

Once out, he looked around. Charlie wasn’t there. “Uh, Sam? I don’t see her.”

He looked down the road again and saw her car. The driver’s side door opened and the familiar shock of red hair popped out.

He was about to ask something sarcastic when Charlie’s head ducked back in. It re-emerged and then the passenger side door opened.

It took only a moment to realize who that second figure was.

Dean’s breath stopped and his throat closed, convulsing around...around what? He felt the pressure building at the tips of his nose and fingers and his mouth gaped and then the second figure was shutting the door, head bowed, turning slowly towards the bunker and finally raised his head.

Then he stopped. _Cas_. 

Maybe Dean shook his head, maybe he stood still. His stomach roiled and he stared at Cas as Charlie put a steadying a hand on his back and they both started moving forward. Dean instinctively backed away and then big arms stopped him and he swung blindly, connecting with Sam’s face.

“No!” he half-choked, half-shouted, gathering his wits long enough to see Sam, holding a bloody nose. Then he turned and stormed into the woods. He wasn’t going to get himself cornered in the bunker and he wasn’t going to get in the car and pretend he’d be able to drive past Cas and Charlie and not want to throw himself and the car over the edge of the road and _what the hell what the hell what the hell._

Sam’s voice called after him and he tried to close his ears, moved forward swiftly over logs and leaves and plants he couldn’t name but that snagged at his jeans. He didn’t bother pushing branches out of his way and they scraped against his face and cut and he just kept going and going. A great big something was boiling and fighting and the pressure was building in his ears and he was going to -

He caught hold of a tree as he doubled over, retching at its base. His body heaved until there was nothing left and his eyes burned, hot, painful tears squeezing out and falling off the end of his nose.

He eventually stopped heaving, and with trembling hands wiped his mouth and tried to steady himself. He pressed his face into his sleeve, as if he could hide from...from _this_ and focused on pushing the air in and out of his shaking body.

 _Cas_.

How the _hell_ was he back? What sort of shit had Sam pulled...unless...he thought back over the last week and a half, over the not-quite-right expressions and oddly worded advice and if he hadn’t just blown chunks he might have then because _they knew_.

Cas had been alive this whole time and _they knew_.

 _Everyone_ but Dean had known.

He bit his lip, hard. He’d bet his Baby that it had been Cas to put the gag order on the other two and he tasted blood.

“ _shit_ ,” he released his lip then sucked it back into keep the blood from dripping.

He didn’t know what was happening. He was furious and confused and so damned _relieved_ but _Cas_...

He stayed like that - didn’t know how long - with his eyes shut tightly in the crook of his elbow, making himself breath and pushing out the the air in an ever-steadying rhythm. He pushed out sensation, anything except the black pressing uncomfortably against his eyelids and the volume of his lungs.

“Dean?”

Every nerve he had stood at attention and he froze. Maybe if he kept his face hidden and eyes closed he could pretend it was a hallucination and dammit he wished he was drunk right now.

“Dean?” it was a little more pleading than the first time, a little more broken.

He couldn't turn around. He couldn’t look at Cas and _give_ anymore. He was so full of everything having to do with Cas being _dead_ and he couldn’t factor in _this_ and everything it meant and _dammit dammit dammit_.

So he breathed. In and out and in and out until he heard footsteps walking away and something inside him twisted with a painful, vindictive pleasure and a cruel voice sneered _Silent treatment doesn’t feel so great, huh?..._.

Once he was sure that Cas was far away he stood up stiffly, blinking against the light and screwing his face up as he tried to loosen his body.

So, Cas was alive.

Sam and Charlie - whether of their own choice or Cas’ instruction, hadn’t told him.

They’d both watched him, hacking at trees and crying and had played shrink to his depression instead of just tell him the damn simple truth. Cas was alive.


End file.
